Page 91 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

“Down girl,” he joked. “You’ve got a bunch of shit here. I’m guessing you want to open soon. That means we need to get started.”

I gestured toward the pile of boxes scattered across the floor. “That one’s my desk,” I said, pointing to the largest box. “Solid oak. Got it on clearance from that warehouse in Raleigh. Minimal assembly required.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Minimal assembly.”

“Yeah, the bookshelves and chairs are over there,” I said.

He nodded. “You didn’t consider ordering furniture and having it delivered?”

“Too expensive,” I said. “A little assembly saves thousands.”

“Let’s get to work, then,” he said.

He pulled out a box knife and sliced through the cardboard. I watched him pull out the instructions and scan through them. He was so sexy. There was a ruggedness to him that I couldn’t stop looking at. He looked up from the paper and smiled. “I think we can handle this.”

He dropped to his knees and pulled out some of the pieces.

“Phillips head,” he said, holding out his hand without looking at me.

I reached into the toolbox he’d brought. I felt far better equipped to help him after the night in the garage. Our first official date. I handed him the right screwdriver.

“Good job,” he said.

I laughed. “I had a good teacher.”

We worked in silence for a while, him assembling while I handed him tools like some kind of amateur mechanic’s assistant. It was almost funny how much I’d picked up from that one evening in his shop.

Hours later, Dean’s forehead gleamed with sweat as he tightened the last screw on my bookshelf. I handed him a water bottle.

“Thanks for this,” I said.

He took a long drink, his throat working. “Not every day you get to build an empire from the ground up.”

I looked around at the half-assembled furniture, the blank walls waiting for photos and the cardboard strewn about. It was chaos now, but I could see what it would become.

“I think I can see your vision now,” he said.

“Yeah?”

I took a deep breath, letting my gaze wander over the space. “Yeah,” I said, stepping closer to the desk Dean had just finished assembling. I ran my hand along the smooth surface. “I want it to feel warm. Inviting. Like, when someone walks in, they’re not just walking into an office—they’re walking into a place where they can sit down and relax. I don’t like the high-pressure sales thing. I know a lot of families are already stressed out enough with the whole process of looking for a home.”

“Maybe a kids’ area,” he suggested.

“Yes! Very good idea. My business is going to cater to family homes, not the expensive houses so much.”

He nodded. “Good idea.”

“Maybe some potted plants in the corners—something lush and green to give it life.” I turned back to him, my excitement building as I spoke. “And over here.” I pointed to the wall behind the desk. “I want a mural. I used to know an artist in town. If she’s still here, I’ll hire her to paint a mural of Larkspur Lake.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got it all figured out.”

“Not all of it,” I admitted with a laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “But enough to get started. The rest I’ll figure out as I go.”

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and grabbed mine. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Dinner. My treat.”

“I think I should be buying you dinner,” I said.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not ever letting that happen.”

“Maybe chivalry isn’t dead.”